


welcome home, son

by sis (sis_be_wilding)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Reality Show, Angst, Background Charlie/Dorothy Baum, Eileen Leahy/Sam Winchester Fluff, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, John Winchester Being an Asshole, M/M, Past Child Abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-19
Updated: 2021-02-23
Packaged: 2021-03-15 23:35:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29566899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sis_be_wilding/pseuds/sis
Summary: Castiel Novak is a college student in his senior year with straight A’s, perfect attendance, and no social life whatsoever. Dean Winchester is a high school dropout with six bucks and a bottle of whiskey to his name. Somehow, both end up on a reality TV show.OrDean doesn’t have a home, and Castiel gives him one.
Relationships: Castiel & Dean Winchester, Castiel & Gabriel (Supernatural), Castiel/Dean Winchester, Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester
Comments: 1
Kudos: 10





	1. long story short

**Author's Note:**

> please tell me if this fic is in any way, shape or form offensive! and also, tell me if i've made any mistakes! i am a young writer and constructive criticism will help me grow ^^
> 
> this is more of a background project since i have another ongoing fic, so the updates will most likely not be scheduled. 
> 
> the title comes from the song Welcome Home, Son by Radical Face. i'll also be naming the chapter titles after songs.
> 
> TW (TRIGGER WARNING) for alcohol.
> 
> this chapter's song is long story short by Taylor Swift!
> 
> i hope you enjoy!

When Castiel Novak got a phone call from his brother, he knew that it couldn’t be good.

It had been a pretty decent day. Cas had gotten his latest test back with an A+ stamped in the corner and a handwritten note telling him to speak up more in class, which he ignored. He had also gotten his weekly paycheck from his dead-end job at the local Wiener Hut (what dignified adult would name their restaurant “Wiener Hut”?  _ Only in California, _ Castiel thought) and deposited it at the bank with minimum human contact. He had driven home and not been honked at by an angry driver while making the swerving (but legal) turn down Hallcroft Street. And, to top it all off, his neighbor Becky, who was usually quite nosy, hadn’t even bothered to say ‘hello’ when he brushed past him in the tiny apartment hallway.

Scratch decent, because goddamn, it was a  _ great _ day, even though nothing out of the ordinary had occurred. After all, it was the littlest things that brought Cas the most joy. And, of course, minimal human contact. That was always the cherry on top.

When he entered his apartment, he hung up his backpack neatly on the spindly self-assembled coat rack and removed his glasses, which he wore to promote more of a “quiet, nerdy kid” aesthetic to those around him. His eyesight was actually quite acute. Once his vision focused, he took a deep inhale and glanced around his small apartment.

He had just moved in a few months ago and hadn’t really bothered to decorate it. His last apartment had evicted him, and in his haste to find a new place before school started up again, he hadn’t exactly chosen the best spot. The wallpaper was faded and peeling, the kitchen was practically non-existent - it consisted of an oven and a chipped marble countertop - and a dank, musty smell that wouldn’t go away. 

But it was his, and he had purchased it with his hard-earned money, so he felt somewhat proud of it.

He had just sat down on the floor (he hadn’t found the time to go furniture shopping) with his homework laid out neatly on the coffee table and had his pencil in hand when his phone buzzed with a call. He let out a small exhale through his nose and picked it up to see that it was his older brother, Gabriel, who was calling him.

At first, Cas was confused. He hadn’t spoken to him in months. The last conversation they had was about Gabriel finally getting cast in a movie that ended up getting cancelled because the director was arrested for possession of drugs. Gabriel was disappointed, for sure, but he didn’t let that stop him from pursuing his acting career. 

“I’ll be a star for sure,” he had said in his cheerful lilt, “Just you wait.” And then he had hung up for dramatic effect, not bothering to say goodbye to his little brother.

Cas thumbed the “answer” button on his phone while it buzzed repeatedly in his hand. He wasn’t sure whether he should answer the call or not, as it couldn’t be any form of good news, unless Gabriel was calling to tell him that their mother had died and that he was not invited to the funeral. That would be delightful.

_ It’s cruel to hope for that, though, _ Castiel thought with a mental sigh, and pressed “decline”. He needed to get started on his homework. Gabriel’s shenanigans would have to wait for another day. it was almost nine o’clock and he could already feel his eyes drooping with exhaustion. 

Not even five minutes had passed when his phone vibrated again with another call from Gabriel. Cas groaned and picked up the phone once more. He really,  _ really _ didn’t want to interact with anyone - he had made it through the entire day without saying a word, the only exception being to disclose his name to the teller at the bank to deposit his check.

But, he also prided himself on being polite. And declining a call from your elder brother not once, but twice, was extremely rude.

He pressed “decline” yet again. Even though it was rude. But he didn’t care.

This time, there was a long interval between calls. And, not unlike a tide returning faithfully to the sea, Gabriel called yet again, only a whopping twenty minutes after the second one.

This time, Cas let it ring for a while. A twinge of guilt pulled at his heart. Gabriel wouldn’t bother calling him more than once unless it was important. Additionally, he felt somewhat satisfied, not answering the calls. Like he had control over his brother. He could  _ control _ whether he wanted to talk to him or not.

And that control scared him, just a little, but the fear was there. 

Being the one to call the shots was not something he was used to doing.

So, this time, even though there were a plethora of reasons not to pick up the call, he selected the ‘answer’ button and lifted the phone to his ear.

“What,” Cas said, his voice cracking slightly from disuse. 

“Well, well, if it isn’t my favorite little brother!” Gabriel said loudly, his voice warbled through the phone. “Been a while, huh, Cassie? How’re you doin’? Why weren’t you picking up?”

Cas refrained from sighing again and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “I am fine, Gabriel, just busy, with- with work. And, please, do not call me ‘Cassie’.” Cas hated lying, but how was he supposed to tell his brother that he felt  _ powerful _ not picking up the phone? And how was he supposed to explain how he suddenly felt guilty for not answering at first, even though he didn’t want to talk to him?

Thankfully, Gabriel didn’t question the excuse. “Okie dokie, artichokie!” he sang. Cas smiled against his will at that - no matter how annoying his brother could be, he was always grateful for his unwavering happiness.

“Why are you calling me?” he asked.

“Just wanted to pop in and letcha know that I got a gig as a host for a reality show!” Gabriel said happily, obviously not sensing that Cas was annoyed with him. “Aren’t you proud of your big bro?”

“I give my congratulations, Gabriel,” Cas replied, twirling his pencil between his fingers. “Now, if you’ll excuse me-”

“Now, hold on just a second there, Cas! You aren’t trying to get  _ rid _ of me, are you?” Gabriel teased. Now he was getting on Cas’s nerves, but he maintained a cool tone.

“No, of course not. I just have lots of work to do and little time to do it.” he said.

“I got an offer for you. Are you willing to hear it?” A completely different voice filtered through the phone’s speakers and Cas was surprised for a moment.

“Gabriel? Is that still you?”

“Sure is, kiddo. This is just my business voice. Anyways, I want to offer you a spot on my show.”

Cas paused for a moment, pencil slipping out of his hand. “Why on Earth would you do that?”

“We’re looking for ‘talented individuals’ who will ‘bring excitement to the show’ that also fit into certain stereotypes. Or, at least, that’s what I understand of it,” Gabriel said, and Cas could practically hear the air quotes he was most likely making on the other end of the call. “We’ve got your classic jock, a dumb blonde-”

“It is unkind to call people dumb, Gabriel.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. We got your edgy emo girl, a bubbly redhead, and so on and so forth. We’re just missing a nerdy guy, and I want you to fill the spot.”

“I am neither talented nor exciting, so I have to decline your offer.”

“That’s not true, kiddo, and we both know that. You’re going to fuckin’ college, for Christ’s sake. Unlike me.” Gabriel said bitterly. Gabriel was obviously still bitter about his failure to get into college, even though the whole ordeal happened more than a decade ago. Cas bit his cheek.

“What kind of TV show is it?” he asked cautiously, not wanting to give Gabriel the wrong idea. 

“I’m glad you asked! It’s a Love Island-type game show-”

“Oh, God,” Cas moaned. A reality TV show about  _ dating _ and  _ relationships _ and everything Cas was bad at? There was no way he would do this. No way.

“Hey, don’t be such a party pooper! It’ll be fun! Maybe you’ll even fall in love for real?” Gabriel chuckled, knowing full well that Cas would definitely not fall in love with anyone there.

“I don’t want to do it.” Being on TV would certainly give him both fame and money, neither of which he wanted. 

Well, that was a lie. He could certainly use the money.

Though he had never admitted this to anyone, Cas was in debt. When he was accepted into college, he had moved out of his mother’s mansion and was on his own for the first time in his life. He had student loans to pay, and now that he was in his senior year at college, he would have to pay those very soon, or he would remain in debt for the rest of his life. He barely had half of the money collected, and that was from working at Wiener Hut for four years. He was worried about it, as any vigorous student would be, but he always pushed the thoughts to the back of his mind and told himself that it was a problem for another day. 

“C’mon, Cassie. Pleeeeeease? Just let me change your life, just once?” Gabriel begged.

“Fine.” The words left his mouth before he could actually think about what he was saying. But before he could take it back, Gabriel let out a squeal that could rival the squeaking of a chipmunk.

“Really? Thanks, Cas! You’ll need to come down next week and sign some paperwork and shit like that, but- Christ, thanks, dude. I was seriously thinking that you’d say no. But I would goad you into it, either way.” he chirped, talking a million miles a minute. Cas groaned.  _ Why, why, why did I say yes? _

Too late to take it back. “I- uh. Okay. I will see you then, Gabriel.”

“Seeya, squirt!” And then the line goes dead.

Cas propped his elbows up on the coffee table and smacked his head repeatedly on them.  _ What am I getting myself into? _

  
  


* * *

Dean Winchester was tipping back a third cup of whiskey when his friend Benny barged through the front door. 

Dean hadn’t been doing well for the past few days. After losing what felt like his thousandth job a few days prior, he had spiraled back into a depressive state, not eating and only drinking alcohol. He hadn’t gone back to smoking, but the only reason he hadn’t was because he was too far gone to even think about driving to the store to buy a pack. He had reached the end of the rope and was dangling over a pit of crocodiles who were hungry for his flesh.

That all changed when Benny practically yanked the door of its hinges and entered the dark apartment.

“Whoo, brother, you  _ stink _ ,” he mumbled, fanning his face. “Where are you?”

Dean didn’t say anything, just raised his glass and rattled it around so the ice cubes inside clinked together. He wasn’t in the mood for conversation.

“Ah, there he is,” Benny trotted over to where he was sitting, plucked the glass from Dean’s hand, and threw it at the wall. The glass shattered and fell to the floor, the whiskey leaving a stain on the wall.

“Hey, man, what the hell was that for?” Dean growled.

“Oh, he speaks!” Benny said dramatically. Dean scrunched up his nose and rocketed out of his chair at the kitchen table. 

“You think you’re funny, huh?” Dean jabbed a finger into Benny’s chest. Benny was an enormous guy, taller than Dean’s brother Sam, who was also a big guy. But Dean wasn’t afraid of him. 

“I’m here to help, brother, so don’t treat me like that.” Benny hissed, slapping Dean’s hand away. 

“I don’t need help, shithead,” Dean snapped back. He stomped back into the gloomy kitchen, almost slipping on a water puddle he had forgotten to mop up, and grabbed a beer from his mini fridge. 

“Don’t drink that poison, Dean,” Benny said, exasperated, and snatched the bottle away before Dean could even open it.

“What they hell are you doing here, Benny?” Dean spat. He felt anger, red-hot boiling anger, build up underneath his gut, like a whistling tea kettle.

“Well, you’re all riled up, aren’tcha? I can practically see the steam coming outta your ears.” Benny responded, taking an empty seat at the table. “Sit your ass down. We need to have a talk.”

Dean complied, but only because he didn’t feel like fighting his best friend any longer. He plunked down in his seat. It was still warm.

“So, what is it?” he asked. His fingers itched for a beer, so he pressed them under his thighs to keep them from twitching. Benny said nothing, just studied him for a few minutes.

“You’re not drunk.”

“Yeah, so?”

“Been a long time since I’ve seen you sober.”

“God, Benny, I’m not drunk, but I sure as hell ain’t sober.”

“Better than nothing.”

Dean scoffed. “Will you just tell me what’s going on?”

Benny searched him again with his eyes. Dean hated it when he did that, like he was looking for something in him that he didn’t have.

“I think I’ve found something that might help you out.” Benny said after what felt like eternity.

“Benny, I’m not going to rehab, or an AA meeting, or therapy, or-” Dean argued, but Benny cut him off.

“None of that, brother. Something a little more… what’s the word? Ah, to hell if I know a word to describe it. What I do know is that it’ll help you out.” he said, his slow southern drawl sticking to his tongue like molasses.

“I don’t need any fuckin’ help, Benny-”

“Dean, please. Just listen to me.” Benny cut him off once again, a pleading look in his eye. Dean sighed and gestured for Benny to continue.

“I got a job as a casting director. For a reality show.” he started, and held up a hand to Dean when he tried to speak. “Let me finish. I want to offer you a spot on the show.”

Dean scrunched up his face and leaned back in his chair so that the front two legs were hovering above the floor. “A reality show? Not my thing, dude.”

“I think it’ll be good for you. Fun, at the very least.” Benny leaned forward in his chair, his intense blue eyes fixed on Dean, who stared back with his piercing green ones. 

“What kinda reality show is it? Because, I swear, if it’s  _ My Strange Addiction _ , I will  _ murder _ you,” Dean chuckled humorlessly, but Benny smiled nonetheless.

“It’s a romance show.”

“Like  _ 90 Day Fiance _ ?”

“More like  _ Love Island _ .”

“Gross.”

“For someone who claims that reality TV is ‘not their thing’, you sure know a lot about it.” Benny guffawed, and Dean realized that he was teasing him. 

“You’re stupid,” Dean said weakly, because that was the best thing he could come up with in the moment. That only made Benny laugh harder.

“So?” he asked when he stopped laughing, an eyebrow raised.

“Will there be a bar on said island?” Dean replied, raising his eyebrow to copy Benny.

Benny sighed. “Yes, unfortunately. It seems that it is the producer’s goal to get all the contestants as drunk as possible in order to stir up drama and such.”

“Cool, then I’m in.” Dean punctuated his statement by slamming his fist on the table, like he was banging a gavel.

“Really?” Benny said in disbelief. “That easy, huh?”

“Dude. Private island. Hot chicks? Booze? Sounds like my perfect haven,” Dean shrugged, even though he knew he was only going for the booze. That, and to make Benny happy, because he liked making his friend happy, as any good friend would.

“Huh. Glad I got you to change your mind,” Benny sighed happily. “I’ll call you later with the details, ‘kay?”

“Yeah, yeah, okay,” Dean said, grabbing the beer Benny had taken from him, “You can show yourself out now.”

Benny’s eyes lingered on Dean for a moment. “You gotta be sober for this, you hear?”

“Which part?” Dean questioned, sipping the drink. God, beer tasted so damn good.

“You can get drunk as a skunk as soon as you’re on the island. But you gotta stay dry for a while beforehand, or else you can’t go.” Benny huffed, walking towards the door.

“I can do that.” Dean muttered, knowing full well that he probably couldn’t.

“Sorry for almost breaking your door.”

“S’fine.”

Benny cast one last look at Dean, with eyes like a sad puppy. “Okay. See you ‘round, brother.”

Dean just nodded back.


	2. fly away

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello all it is i, Sis, back again with another hastily-written chapter that i wrote while eating a shit ton of pretzel sticks
> 
> today's chapter song is "Fly Away" by Lenny Kravitz. it seemed appropriate for a chapter that mostly takes place in an airport yeet
> 
> anyways please enjoy!

The next few weeks were a blur for Castiel. Gabriel passed him off to a squat, Scottish man named Crowley while he traveled around the country with the casting director.

“It’s just a nickname, chap,” Crowley had chuckled when Cas asked about his strange name, “My real name is even worse.”

Cas did not question this. 

He received calls all the time from all sorts of different people, even when he was in school, which is particularly annoying because he couldn’t just ignore the calls like he wished he could. Additionally, it made him interact with other people, which is the absolute last thing he wanted to do  _ all the time _ .

Gabriel returned in early May, babbling on about the sights he saw and all the people he met. Cas felt a twinge of jealousy - he’d always wanted to go on a trip like Gabriel’s, but had never had the time. Or the money.

Cas barely got any sleep, between homework and frequent visits from Gabriel. They had their first hug for the first time in years on one of those visits, and for just a moment, Cas wished he had built up a better relationship with him when they were younger. But those thoughts were banished from his mind when Gabriel shocked his back with a tiny hand buzzer and laughed wildly, even though it hurt like hell.

“How do you do it, Gabriel?” he asked one night after a particularly draining barrage of calls from one of the set directors, who wouldn’t stop asking him what his favorite color was and wouldn’t take “I like them all” as an answer. “How do you just- just  _ talk _ to people all day for a living?”

Gabriel had just shrugged. “I just do, I guess.”

Cas groaned. “Very educating. Thank you for your wise words.” 

He found out that he would be staying at a villa on a private island named “Madagascar” (“Really, Gabriel?” “Crowley gave me creative liberty to name it. Don’t blame me, blame him!”).

And before he knew it, it’s June and he’s graduating college. He forgot about it in the whirlwind of calls and meetings he’s been roped into the past few months, but when May passed, he realized that he’s almost out of school forever.

The ceremony is short and sweet. Gabriel is the only family member that attended, and Cas was fine with that, because he wasn’t particularly fond of his family anyways. But he had to admit, standing up on the stage with his diploma and having people  _ clap _ for you like you’re  _ worth _ something - he couldn’t get enough of the feeling of fulfillment. Gabriel whistled loudly and hooted for him, and Cas smiled wider than he had in a long time.

Gabriel took pictures that he actually looks decent in, so he let him keep the photos.

Cas hung his diploma up on his wall and stared at it for a long period of time. It’s an intricate piece of art, with minute black lettering that looks like something right out of the medieval era, and painted gold leaves tracing the sides of the paper.

He was very proud of it.

June sped away in a haze of late nights, drunk games of gin rummy with Gabriel and Crowley and melted ice cream. The temperatures were climbing higher and higher and Cas could barely stand living in his tiny apartment that didn’t have an AC unit, so he slept at Crowley’s apartment, which is only a few streets down from his. It’s a temporary living situation, but Cas enjoys it, since Crowley understands that he needs his space, unlike Gabriel. It’s why Cas opted to live with Crowley in the first place.

And all of a sudden, it’s July, and Cas was whisked to LAX in a yellow taxi.

The airport was loud, hot, and overwhelming, and downright scary for a guy like Castiel. He was nervous to part with his suitcase, and the female attendant could see the fear in his eyes, so she helped him assemble a small carry-on bag even though there were at least fifty other people in line.The small gesture made Cas just the slightest bit calmer.

Unfortunately for Cas, his voice was naturally quiet from little use over the years of his life, so the TSA officers working at security could barely hear him. They were not nearly as nice as the attendant who helped him with his carry-on bag. He had to endure many “Speak up, son,” and “I can’t hear you”’s before he finally made it to his gate. 

“Hello, Gabriel,” he rasped to his brother, who was sitting on the cushioned seats near the gate. His voice was so spent that he could barely speak above a whisper. Gabriel was wearing a brightly-colored Aloha shirt, so he was easy to find. 

“Hey, kiddo. They’re going to start boarding in a few minutes, so don’t sit down.” Gabriel yelled, “In fact, we should start getting lined up. Follow me.”

He led Cas to the A Line, and they watched as a few passengers from the previous flight exited the gate.

“All right, we’re boarding now,” Gabriel muttered, even though Cas could clearly see that for himself. The flight attendant at the gate gave them a wide smile while scanning their boarding passes.

“You look awfully tropic! Where are you going?” she asked, gesturing towards Gabriel’s shirt. He flashed her a grin and told her they were just “getting away for the summer”. She laughed at him and pointed them down the long tube that led to the airplane.

Cas felt strangely claustrophobic, walking down the tight hallway. It was small, too small for his liking, and all at once he felt scared.

Gabriel seemed to take notice of this and patted his brother on the shoulder awkwardly.

“Hey, kiddo… I know we’re not very close, and all, but if you need anything, just…” he started, then paused, and clapped Cas on the shoulder once more. “Yeah. You get it.”

Cas offered him a small smile. “Thank you, but I think I will be okay.”

  
  


* * *

  
  


Dean hated flying.

“What’s the appeal of being locked in a circular metal death tube, huh?” he had said to Benny when he had asked why.

Benny laughed. “It’s a short flight, so you don’t need to worry. It’ll only be about three to four hours.”

Dean snorted. “It’ll be the worst three to four hours of my life.”

Benny just shook his head and shoved Dean down the tiny aisle of the plane.

“Ow, Jesus, Benny! You don’t need to push me! I’m going!” Dean snapped. He didn’t like being pushed around, and he was even more irritated than usual, since he was forced to stay sober. He was more agreeable when he was drunk.

“Sit your ass down, I’ll be right back.” Benny growled at him when they finally got to their seats. He then walked past their seat to use the bathrooms. Dean scoffed.

“Couldn’t have done that before we got on the plane?” he muttered to himself as he buckled his seatbelt, even though they wouldn’t be taking off for a while.

Even though Dean hated being sober, he had to admit that it was nice to have thoughts that weren’t amplified by drink. But the plane made him nervous. The over-steralized smell of the seats, the weird new-car smell wafting through the air, and those stupid fold-up trays - everything just put him on edge. He didn’t even realize that he was clenching his fists until he looked down and found out his knuckles were almost completely white.

Benny returned after a few minutes. “Sorry, had to take a leak,” he murmured as some sort of apology. Dean loosened up a little with his friend sitting next to him.

“S’fine.” he replied half-heartedly. “They don’t happen to serve margaritas on this plane, do they?”

Benny threw him a look. “You have to remain sober until the show starts, remember? Company policy.” he said shortly before pulling out a small book he kept tucked in his carry-on back and started flipping through the pages, signaling that he didn’t want to be talked to. Dean repressed a sigh and leaned back in his seat, clutching onto the armrests.

A man’s voice filled the air. “Hello, everyone, this is your captain. The weather is quite nice today, a subtle 69 degrees-”

Dean fought back a grin. Sixty-nine. What a funny number.

“-sunny with a few scattered clouds, but clear nonetheless. Wind speeds-”

He tuned out after that. After the announcements were over, a bunch of flight attendants filtered into the tight aisles and demonstrated how to use the life vests and all the other safety junk, which only made Dean more uncomfortable. Finally, the flight attendants left and the captain announced that they would be taking off in five minutes.

Dean gulped loudly, loud enough to annoy the person behind him, who he was accidentally squishing with his leaned-back seat. 

Suddenly, and without warning, the plane started moving forward.  _ Oh God. Oh Jesus. _

Dean squeezed his eyes shut, tears bending at the corners of them. He felt so stupid, being scared of flying - but he pushed away the embarrassment and focused on his breathing, which had suddenly gone erratic.

He was  _ so _ not ready for this.

* * *

The plane ride wasn’t as bad as Cas expected.

Their flight was quite long, since they were travelling from California to Florida. Cas lost track of the hours after he fell asleep and woke up to Gabriel smacking his face and telling him to grab his carry-on bag.

“Huh?” he moaned sleepily as Gabriel started shaking his shoulders.

“Good mornin’, kiddo! Well, more like evening, at this point-” Gabriel chirped, and Cas cut him off by whipping his head towards the tiny airplane window to see the purple night sky shining overhead.

“Oh my,” he whispered, admiring the stars. 

“Hey, hey, we gotta get off now, Cassie,” Gabriel said, grabbing Cas’s wrist and shoving his bag into his lap. “C’mon, you can look at the sky outside.”

Cas complied, bag in hand, and squeezed into the thin aisle to follow Gabriel. When they exited the plane, Cas felt strange - like he had just entered a whole new world. The small hallway connected to the airport was exactly the same as the one in California, but it  _ felt _ different - something Cas couldn’t quite put his finger on. But the feeling was still there.

The airport was hot and smelly, but what else should he have expected? He was in Florida, the land of hot, smelly people. 

“Don’t forget Florida Man,” Gabriel had giggled when Cas brought it up to him.

Cas sighed and rolled his eyes. “It’s Florida  _ Men _ , Gabriel. There’s more than one idiot here.”

“Rude.”

“You’re not part of the Florida Men. Why are you taking offense?”

Gabriel shrugged. “They’re my favorite kind of people.” 

Cas stopped himself before he could roll his eyes again. “You and your memes.”

Gabriel chuckled and nudged Cas with his shoulder. “Whatever, man. Hey, is that Crowley?” He asked, pointing to a pudgy blob sitting with his legs crossed near the baggage claim.

“I believe so. He’s the only person I know who crosses their legs,” Cas replied. 

“Hey! Crowles!” Gabriel called to the man, who looked up and scrunched his face at the use of the nickname “Crowles”. He darted off, leaving Cas alone.

Cas sighed, grabbed his and Gabriel’s baggage off the circular conveyor belt and dragged them over to where Crowley and Gabriel were chatting.

“Ah, Castiel,” Crowley said happily, clapping a hand on Cas’s shoulder, “Nice to see you again, chap. We’re heading out now - the production team ordered us a limo to travel in. It should be right outside.”

“How nice of them,” Cas commented, “Aren’t you two coming with me, though?”

“No, we have some business to take care of here, with the other contestants. Oh, and that reminds me…” Gabriel checked his phone. “Looks like the cameramen are outside. They need a few shots of you getting into the car and such, for dramatic effect or whatever.”

“Ah, okay.” Cas said, shifting from foot to foot uncomfortably. He had to remind himself that he had signed up for this. He gave his consent to be filmed. He was  _ okay _ with it, right?

“You should probably head out now. The limo guy’s been waiting an hour, apparently.” Crowley added.

“Okay, then. See you, Gabriel,” Cas waved to the men and headed up the ramp towards the drop-off and pick-up area.

As soon as he exited through the sliding doors, he saw the limousine and the driver, who wore black sunglasses and a stoic expression, waiting attentively next to it. The car, which was excessively long, even for a limo, had drawn a small crowd of teenagers ogling it. Cas had to shove his way through the swarm to get to the driver.

“Ah, hello. I’m Cas. I believe you are here to pick me up?” he asked awkwardly. God, why was it so hot? Cas fiddled with his collar as the driver lowered his sunglasses and fixed him with a hard stare.

“May I see your ID?” the driver asked, his voice drippy and slimy, not unlike a snake’s.

Cas flashed him his driver's license while the teenagers barraged him with questions such as “Dude, are you rich?” “Does that car belong to you?” and “Can I go for a ride?”. The driver nodded slightly at him and handed him back his license.

“Get in the car,” he said, and opened the door for him. The crowd around the car dispersed when a cameraman suddenly appeared. Cas gulped but remained a straight face as the camera filmed him entering the car. 

Once he was inside, a blast of cold air hit him and he sighed in happiness. The cameraman took the passenger’s seat and glanced at him. The man had cleanly cut hair with a lopsided black cap shoved over it and a square face.

“Hello, Castiel. My name is Gadreel,” he said, offering him a hand to shake. Cas took it, since Gadreel seemed like a nice guy.

“Nice to meet you, Gadreel,” Cas smiled at him. Secretly, he wished that he would be left alone. He was exhausted, as he had more interaction with people in the past twelve hours than he had had in the past month.

Gadreel, thankfully, recognized this, and remained silent as the driver slid into his seat and started the car.

Cas pressed his forehead to the window of the car, the glass cooling his forehead. Before he knew it, he had fallen asleep yet again.

* * *

Dean had never been so relieved in his life when he finally stepped off the airplane and practically ran into the airport. He took great, gulping breaths of fresh air (well, as fresh as airport air could get) and placed a hand on his chest in an attempt to regulate his breathing.

“You okay, brother? It was only three hours,” Benny asked, concerned. Dean shot him a glare.

“Like you were any help, dickwad,” he mumbled. Benny scoffed.

“Listen, I got to meet up with this guy named Gabriel. I think he’s one of the hosts. You’re on your own from now on,” Benny said, checking his phone. 

Dean groaned. “Can’t I just come with you?”

“No can do. They’re meeting up near the baggage claim,” Benny replied. 

“Perfect. I gotta get my luggage, anyways,” Dean said, straightening up. “Lead the way, compadre.”

“Didn’t you just call me a dickwad five seconds ago?” Benny asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Definitely not,” Dean joked. Benny squinted at him but led him to the baggage claim.

Dean spotted his suitcase almost immediately and snatched it off the conveyor belt. “Where are the guys you’re meeting up with?”

“Over there,” Benny pointed to a group of people huddled near the exit. Dean sauntered over and put on a dashing smile while Benny trailed behind.

“Hello, humans,” he chuckled. There was a squat old guy, a much younger man with brown hair, a short girl with purple hair, and a tanned woman with weirdly red eyes.

_ Holy shit, _ Dean thought as he laid eyes on the tan-skinned lady. It was fucking  _ Andrea Berkely _ .

“Hello, Dean,” Andrea said, flashing him a white-toothed smile. Dean was stunned. Andrea was one of the most famous actresses in the world. She was wearing a disguise - her iconic dyed-pink hair was tied up in a bun and concealed by a sunhat, and she wore heavy eyeliner so that her red eyes were more inconspicuous - but Dean could still tell it was her.

“Uh- Hi,” he stammered. Andrea just grinned at him.

“What, never met a famous person before?” she teased. Dean laughed nervously.

“Not really.” he replied.

“Ah, you must be the alcoholic. Perfect, I believe that’s everyone, then,” said the short man. Dean’s good mood instantly disappeared at being called “the alcoholic”, but before he could retort, Andrea had linked elbows with him and was escorting him outside.

“Where are we going?” he asked her. “And uh, if I may ask, what the hell are you doing here?”

Andrea cocked her head like a dog. “Well, obviously, I’m a host,” she said, punctuating her statement with an eye roll. Dean felt stupid.

“Oh, yeah, that makes sense,” he mumbled. Andrea led him outside and gestured to a gorgeous limo that was waiting outside.

“This is yours,” she said shortly, “See you there.” And suddenly she was gone, and in her place was a camera pointing directly in his face. 

He didn’t like being filmed, but he had no choice. The driver escorted him into the car, and the cameraman slid into the front seat without another word, his camera in his lap.

“Hey, uh-” Dean tried to talk to him, but the driver hopped into his seat and started up the car without a word.

“Okay, then,” he whispered to himself, and leaned back on the leather seats. “Nice ride you got here.”

Neither man said anything, and Dean sighed heavily.

This was going to be a very long drive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ill see yall again soon ig
> 
> go ham chiles thanks for reading

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading! i hope you stick around. have a great day!


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